Perfect
by OreoLine00
Summary: Oliver Wood is looking back on his relationship with his father before going off to play pro Quidditch. Story to Simple Plan's song Perfect


Disclaimer: What do you think. I do not own the world of Oliver Wood. If I did, I wouldn't have to be sitting here like a nerd writing an fictions. it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. And the song, yeah, that belongs to Simple Plan. If I owned that one, yeah, I'd be rich!  
  
**Hey dad look at me Think back and talk to me **Did I grow up according to plan  
  
Oliver Wood looked out the window of the train, watching the green blurs pass by. Finally. He was finally going to play professional Quidditch. He thought back to the day he received the letter.  
  
Mr. Wood; We are pleased to inform you about a special opportunity. We have been watching your playing skills for the past five years, and are very impressed. It is our pleasure to invite you to join our team as our new reserve Keeper. We'll be awaiting your arrival on August the 30th. Please contact me for more information. Richard Lefler, Puddlemere United Team Manager  
  
His father was furious. "You've got to be kidding me!" he would yell. "You're future's not in some sport! How in heaven's name are we ever going to keep You-Know-Who's followers in Azkaban while people like you are flying around on broom sticks, hitting one another with bludgers!"  
  
"It's MY future dad! Not yours!" Oliver would yell back! "I don't know why you just can't accept the fact that I DON'T want to be an auror like you! How many people get invited without even needing a tryout to play professionally? You can't tell me I can't go. I'm eighteen. I can go and play for Puddlemere if I want to. You're not going to stop me!"  
  
**Do you think I'm wasting my time **Doing things I wanna do? **'Cuz it hurts when you disapprove all along  
  
He pulled out a picture from his bag. He couldn't help but smile when he looked at it. His sister, Emily, she was so little. He himself was no older than twelve in the photo. They looked so happy, the whole family. His mother was smiling. His sister was smiling. His father was smiling. He was smiling. He didn't smile much anymore. Not since he got the letter.  
  
"You know what Oliver?" his father said. "You're right. I can't stop you. Just remember this- I'll never support any Quidditch career you ever possess. I honestly hope you fail."  
  
Oliver just stood there, shaking his head. "Fine." He said, calmly. He turned and marched up to his room. He walked in and slammed the door. He just sat on the bed for a while before hearing a knock. "Oliver, can I come in?" said a little voice. He got up and opened the door.  
  
"Come on Em," he said, closing the door behind his sister. Once he sat back down, she climbed into his lap.  
  
"Oliver, are you leaving?" she said, looking up at him with big, sad brown eyes, much like his own.  
  
"Yeah Emily. I'm leaving in a few months." He replied.  
  
"But why? I don't want you to go."  
  
"I know Emily, but I'm going to go play Quidditch. You're going to be able to tell your friends your brother is a big Quidditch star." He smiled, seeing she seemed to understand.  
  
"Okay," she nodded. "Just promise you'll send me presents, okay?"  
  
"I promise," he laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug, and skipped out of the room.  
  
**And now I try hard to make it **I just want to make you proud  
  
**I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
  
He watched as the train passed by a field filled with cows. He hated it. He hated how his father hated him. Yet he still couldn't hate his father. His father worked hard to support a family for over eighteen years. He's taught Oliver everything he had known about the real world. He was an extremely hard working man, giving his life to his work.  
  
**I can't pretend that I'm all right **and you can't change me  
  
Over the summer, his father had tried so many times to get him to change his mind about Puddlemere.  
  
"Get an education Oliver," he tried. "Work for the ministry. Become a teacher. Own a shop at Hogsmeade. I don't care what you do. Just don't play Quidditch. Quidditch players are the stupidest wizards and witches alive. They're a disgrace to the magical world."  
  
"Oh, so now I'm stupid, right?" he shot back. "I guess getting almost perfect marks for the past three years isn't good enough for you, right?"  
  
"Exactly my point. Almost perfect marks. They should have been perfect, Oliver. You should have done better on your N.E.W.T.S. and your O.W.L.S. That's not even including your regular classes. You've been slipping Oliver. I'm disappointed in you."  
  
"Well I'm sorry if you call graduating fourth best in my class worthy of disappointment. You know, mom would have been proud. She would have been happy for me and support me the whole way though.  
  
"I'm not your mother!"  
  
**'Cuz we lost it all **Nothing last for ever **I'm sorry I can't be perfect **Now it's just too late and we can't go back **I'm sorry I can't be perfect  
  
They didn't always have such a rocky relationship. He and his father used to be best friends. It wasn't until his mother died at the beginning of the summer before his seventh year did the fighting begin. Oliver practically raised Emily the whole summer because his father was working. The loss was hard on the whole family, especially himself. He held back a tear as he looked at the photograph once more. She was so beautiful. She had beautiful blonde hair and amazing green eyes. God, he missed her more than anything.  
  
He thought it wasn't fair. Everyone at Hogwarts had thought he was the perfect example of anything. He was smart, talented, and incredibly good- looking. All the guys wanted to be him and all the girls wanted to date him. He didn't like the attention being focused on him. There was only one place where he could handle the attention and enjoy it. On the field. It was obvious to anyone that he had amazing skill. It was in the way her flew, his grace when stopping the Quaffle from entering his hoops, his strength when he the maroon ball to one of his chasers. People knew he would be going places. Quidditch was his get away. His only way to feel in control of the world.  
  
**I try not to think **About the pain I feel inside **Did you know you used to be my hero?  
  
He put the old photograph away and continued staring out the window. Now, the train was passing threw a town much like his own. He saw children playing and running around. He hated to admit it, but it hurt. He couldn't stand the fact that his father was hoping he'd fail. He used to respect his father. He looked up to him. He ran around, risking his life to save witches and wizards around the world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His father just wanted Oliver to follow in his footsteps, but this is what Oliver really wanted. It had been his dream to play Quidditch since he was taken to his first match when he was just five year old. He was obviously good enough to be named captain in his fifth year. Everyone associated Quidditch with Oliver, Oliver with Quidditch. That's just the way it went.  
  
**All the days you spent with me **Now seem so far away **And it feels like you don't care anymore  
  
He used to do everything with his father. They would toss Quaffles out on the lawn, camp at the lake close to their house, walk around Diagon Alley, all while laughing the whole time. But he couldn't remember the last time he laughed with his father. He knew it was before his mother died. Over a year ago. If it weren't for Katie, he would never have made it through his final year at school. She was such a great friend. She wuldn be starting her sixth year at Hogwarts soon. She showed him that life wasn't all puppy dogs ansd rainbows and that things are going to happen in life you have no control over. Everone thought they would make such a great couple, but they could never see each other in that way. She was like a second sister to him.  
  
**And now I try hard to make it **I just want to make you proud  
  
He wanted to put his dad behind him. He knew that if his mother were here, she'd support him 100 percent. She was so loving. Oliver often joked and said she was so sweet, she'd give you a cavity every time she's speak to you. He wanted more than anything to have her back, but like Katie had told him, he couldn't control her death. Whether she was dead or alive, Oliver was going to make her proud. She was watching over him, and he knew that.  
  
**I'm never gonna be good enough for you **I can't stand another fight **And nothing's alright  
  
As much as he tried, he couldn't put the summer past him. Every word, every insult, every discrimination his father told him was unforgettable. His father expected so much out of him, but he just couldn't give it to him. He tried. He honestly tried. It was just about impossible to maintain perfect grades on top of all the other things that were expected of him. He had too much stress on him, which caused him to take it out on other people. He hated arguing with his father. He always got a headache from all the yelling. Things were always thrown. Walls were always punched. His sister would always cry. His sister. Poor Emily. She didn't deserve to go through it all. It wasn't her fault. He was grateful that she still loved him after all the fighting with their father. She looked up to Oliver just like he had looked up to his dad in the past. What an example he was setting, throwing vases across the room and shouting at the top of his lungs. Yet she still wanted to be just like her big brother. He would miss her so much.  
  
**Nothing's gonna change the things that you said **Nothing's gonna make this right again **Please don't turn your back **I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you **'Cuz you don't understand  
  
He knew that his father would realize what a mistake he had made. He would tell Oliver how sorry he was and how he should have supported his decision from day one. But Oliver knew it wouldn't be for a while. No matter how much his dad apologized, it still wouldn't make up for all the sleepless nights, broken glass, and memories that would stick forever. As much as he didn't want to talk to his father, he needed to, and he knew it. He didn't want his father to ignore him. He didn't want him to pretend he had no son. He didn't want him to hate him. But Mr. Wood would never understand. He would never figure out what went on in his son's head. He'd never know how scared Oliver was to leave home and leave Emily. He would never know.  
  
The trees outside the window started to pass slower and slower. As Oliver felt the train skid to a halt, he stood up and picked up his bags. He pulled out the photo once more and took another look. He shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't be perfect," he whispered before exiting the train, ending his childhood and beginning his career. 


End file.
